Chapter 132: The Underground Base

The evolutionary serum, formally known as the Human Bloodline Evolutionary Auxiliary Excitation Serum, is designed to catalyze and awaken the potent ancestral legacies hidden within human genetic factors, thereby granting individuals the opportunity to break through their physical limits and evolve.

However, the serum is extraordinarily potent. It requires prolonged periods of adjustment and must be administered under the constant monitoring of laboratory personnel; even then, the risk of crisis remains high. Mild reactions might leave one bedridden for days, while severe ones could lead to total physiological collapse and death. It is so perilous that the average person would never dare attempt it, which explains why the mention of Tiffany earlier had elicited such astonishment.

Crucially, many individuals lack the genetic makeup required to complete the evolution on their own. In such cases, they must fuse with the bloodline of a powerful creature to facilitate the process. During this transition, there is a significant risk that the creature's nature will override the human host, transforming them into a grotesque, inhuman monstrosity—a fate that befell many of the earliest test subjects. Of course, this is already the third generation of the serum, with most of its side effects significantly mitigated; otherwise, it would never have been made available for public sale.

Hidden beneath the house, what had long since become Charles’s private laboratory was equipped with an array of instruments worth tens of millions, rivaling the labs of most academy professors. At his workbench, Charles retrieved a thumb-sized glass vial, drew a single drop of the liquid with a pipette, and placed it under a microscope for study. The liquid was pale gold, radiating a rich, vital energy so intoxicating that it triggered an instinctive urge to consume it.

Time flowed silently as Charles focused his mental energy, subjecting the sample to rigorous verification and analysis. He parsed the substances within, attempting to reverse-engineer the formula from the finished product. No one would have guessed that he possessed such a formidable reservoir of knowledge. With master-level mastery across fifteen disciplines—including pharmacology, biology, ancestral factor analysis and grafting, organ transplantation, bloodline fusion, and human anatomy—he had quietly synthesized the wisdom of the world's top scholars, granting him research capabilities that were truly incredible.

"It contains an energy that is extremely gentle, yet inherently domineering. If my hypothesis is correct, it is likely diluted blood from a Sky-Winged Bird, engineered to possess a deceptive gentleness that masks a disdain for all other forms of existence," Charles speculated.

Totem creatures are considered semi-energetic entities. Once they achieve enlightenment, they are fundamentally set apart from ordinary organisms; they leave no physical remains upon death, nor can their blood be harvested. However, Catastrophe-level divine beasts are beings comparable to gods, unbound by such basic rules, capable of generating bloodlines from their own core energy. A prime example is Tiffany, who carried the bloodline of the Lorenzas Empire's guardian divine beast. She eventually achieved a full awakening, becoming a humanoid Catastrophe beast second only to Leslie.

Or rather, no—she had completely inherited the bloodline and power of that Catastrophe beast, or perhaps one could call it consumption. Facing the danger of being completely overthrown and marginalized, the slumbering divine beast poured all its power into her, granting her peerless strength that allowed her to turn the tide and become an empress for the ages.

Now, the dilemma facing Charles was which bloodline he should choose to trigger his own evolution. He had three options before him.

The first was the Firefly bloodline, which would grant him formidable, invincible mental power, though his physical body would likely remain unremarkable. With the existence of "evolution points," however, his survivability would not be too low.

The second was the Moon-Child bloodline, which possessed terrifyingly violent strength and defense, with a vitality so exaggerated it was second only to the primary totem of Rodi, Paros.

The third was the most unique: using the aura of a Sky-Winged Bird as a catalyst to fuse a multitude of bloodlines into one. The Sky-Winged Bird was a high-and-mighty Catastrophe beast; even a mere trace of its aura or blood would be enough to suppress all other bloodlines. This was the option he found most tempting, but the drawback was equally glaring: should he ever encounter the Dean, he would instinctively submit to them, utterly unable to resist. He could also potentially tap into the Catastrophe-beast bloodline flowing through Tiffany, but it carried the same inherent flaw. He instinctively resisted such subjugation, which was why he had yet to make a final decision.

His research continued until past two in the morning. He had managed to preliminarily identify most of the components, though the specific manufacturing process would require further patient study. After all, it was the culmination of generations of hard work by the entire academy; he could hardly expect to master it in a day or two.

He stood up and stretched his stiff limbs; the high-intensity, total concentration required for his work had left him profoundly weary. Yet, Charles did not rest. Instead, he walked to the deepest corner of the basement, pried up two floorboards, and revealed a dark, narrow passage. He cast a spiritual spell to set a perimeter alarm and then descended into the tunnel, clutching a glowing stone.

The Moon-Child lay lazily by the entrance, acting as a glorified guard dog.

The passage sloped downward at nearly eighty degrees, equipped with the most rudimentary steps, extending into the unknown. It descended over a hundred meters, passing through the water table before the slope eased. At the end, faint lights appeared, revealing a massive space roughly the size of three classrooms.

In the center of the chamber, a sapling less than a meter tall radiated a soft, flickering light—it was a cutting of the Tree of Life. The tree was shrouded in layers of spiritual light, and source crystals were embedded into the rock walls as if they were worthless, forming a large-scale concealment formation that perfectly masked the various anomalous fluctuations within. Combined with the dampening effect of over a hundred meters of earth and rock above, even the most powerful third-rank Life Spiritualist would never detect it.

The architect of this underground space was a totem beast Charles had specially modified and tamed: the Earth-Shifter. It resembled a pangolin, but its back was covered in yellowish-brown spikes. Most striking were its foreclaws, which had grown into shovel-like protrusions composed of hardened keratin, capable of crushing rock with ease.

The five-meter-long Earth-Shifter lay quietly in a corner, its white belly rising and falling rhythmically. Upon hearing footsteps, it lifted its head alertly. Seeing Charles, it trotted over, behaving much like a domestic pet. Unfortunately, its massive size—far exceeding that of a water buffalo—made its approach feel like being charged by a small truck.

Charles reached out and patted its cold, rock-hard head, signaling it to clear a path. The creature obeyed instantly, trotting back to its corner to lie down. As an underground creature, solitude was its constant companion.

Charles walked to the sapling, knelt down, and examined the red eggs partially buried in the strange, blood-colored soil. Soccer-ball-sized eggs lay in dense clusters around the tree, while a bloated, grotesque creature continued to lay more, causing their numbers to swell boundlessly.

Charles picked one up, feeling the restless, violent aura within, and muttered to himself, "I hope the day never comes when I have to use you all..."